LotR -- Book 4 - Chapter 10 - The Choices of Master Samwise

[davem]

Kuruharan, I see what you mean, & I may have overstated the case - though I think there is a case to be made. Remembering Frodo on Amon Hen, caught between the Eye & the Voice, & eventually breaking through & surfacing - & feeling himself to be 'neither the Eye nor the Voice' - or something like that, I wonder about his freedom once he had accepted the task, & whether the powers that be took that into account. Did he have any freedom as far as they were concerned. I suppose one could ask whether he became not only their 'pawn' but rather the victim of 'fate', to be used for the greater 'good'. I wonder what this tells us about Tolkien's own attitude to the life & purpose of the individual. Perhaps we see Frodo's ultimate 'failure' again foreshadowed here - finally he is overwhelmed by an external power too great to be withstood. His selfhood is gradually broken down by these external powers making use of him for this 'greater good'. Yes, he agreed to take the Ring to the Fire, but did he agree in full knowledge of what he would become? He agreed to be an actor in the cosmic drama, but not a pawn in the 'game'.

But to move on...

Sam's relationship to Frodo is spelled out most strongly in this chapter. His defence of Frodo is likened to a creature defending its mate. He 'looks back' to where his life 'fell into ruin'. He desires, if he achieves the Quest, to return & die by his master. It seems Sam is like a lost soul once Frodo is gone & he has no thought of home, of Rosie, of the future. Frodo is the whole purpose of his existence & without him Sam feels life, existence, has no purpose. Even if he manages to destroy the Ring there will be no point in living.

What does this tell us about the difference between Sam & those 'powers' that are using him & Frodo? These Elves & Wizards seem to lack Sam's simple huma compassion. Perhaps this shows us why it is time for Men to take over & those powers to pass away. Yes, they will take the magic away with them, & everything will become mundane. The bright, sharp colours, tastes, smells, the extremes of light & dark, will pass from the world, but the simple love of one person for another will remain, even flourish, without all that. Sam is of the simple good green earth - its significant that he is a gardener not a 'wizard or a warrior'. He earths the Story & proclaims that simple humanity is superior to 'Fantasy'. Sam's simple love of his master is the higher virtue.

Finally, to your earlier jokey(?) comment:

Apparently the best way to deal with her is to trick her into jumping onto your sword.

Isn't that a theme that runs through the whole story - that evil si ultimately self defeating, & brings its destruction on itself. Good doesn't win out because its more powerful but because evil contains the seeds of its own destruction. Shelob defeats herself through her pride & fury. Sauron plants the seeds of his ultimate destruction by his creation of the Ring, etc....

[Kuruharan]

finally he is overwhelmed by an external power too great to be withstood. His selfhood is gradually broken down by these external powers making use of him for this 'greater good'. Yes, he agreed to take the Ring to the Fire, but did he agree in full knowledge of what he would become?

Hmm, well...that is a difficult question. Judging from some of the things Gandalf said it would appear that Frodo did not. However, Gandalf also gives the impression that Frodo would have carried on anyway.

Not all the powers working on him were working for the greater good. I still think that his acceptance of the Quest implies a degree of consent to being temporarily dominated by things like the Phial if his life and Quest were in jeopardy.

I sense much potential for discussion fodder in the Mount Doom chapter.

that evil si ultimately self defeating, & brings its destruction on itself. Good doesn't win out because its more powerful but because evil contains the seeds of its own destruction.

But since Good does not self-destruct, doesn't that make it more powerful?

[Lalwendë]

Originally Posted by davem

Isn't that a theme that runs through the whole story - that evil si ultimately self defeating, & brings its destruction on itself. Good doesn't win out because its more powerful but because evil contains the seeds of its own destruction. Shelob defeats herself through her pride & fury. Sauron plants the seeds of his ultimate destruction by his creation of the Ring, etc....

Yes, and Melkor is ultimately defeated because he has fallen so far into his evil ways that by the end of it he cannot even leave his throne room. Thinking this way, you might soon start to wonder why anybody ever bothered challenging evil, if it was doomed to self destruct in any case. But it always needs a helping hand in order to be destroyed or defeated. Shelob does land on the point of the sword, but if Sam had not dared to place the sword there then she would have eaten him.

Frodo gazed in wonder at this marvellous gift that he had so long carried, not guessing its full worth and potency. Seldom had he remembered it on the road, until they came to Morgul Vale, and never had he used it for fear of its revealing light. Aiya Earendil Elenion Ancalima! he cried, and knew not what he had spoken; for it seemed that another voice spoke through his, clear, untroubled by the foul air of the pit.

But other potencies there are in Middle-earth, powers of night, and they are old and strong. And She that walked in the darkness had heard the Elves cry that cry far back in the deeps of time, and she had not heeded it, and it did not daunt her now.

I was interested how when Frodo speaks Shelob is not daunted. But when Sam speaks it seems to have more effect. What's the difference? Frodo appears to examine the Phial, even to use it with knowledge, as a weapon. But when Sam uses it, does he use it more innocently? It seems that the effect on Sam is to strengthen his own will, to make him more courageous; perhaps this hints at the fact that the Hobbits were not entirely under the control of another force. That would link to what I say above, that even though evil does sow the seeds of its own destruction, it still needs the courage of those who oppose it to destroy it.

As to how the Phial works, I have to admit I'm thinking along the lines of Sanwe again. The Phial is a device of Light primarily, but it is when holding it and thinking of Galadriel that the Hobbits utter their invocations. Galadriel has filled the Phial with water from her fountain, which holds the light of Earendil, and she is the bearer of the Ring of Water. If, as I have pondered on before, the Three (and the other rings too) are invested with powers of sanwe, then the Phial could also hold this power along with its powers of Light. I think that both Frodo and Sam open their minds out to the Elves/Galadriel and that she or they answer through them. Note also that the One has a reverse effect when worn, seeming to convey fear instead, the sense that the mind is open and naked.

Is it good that Good forces have such an influence on mortals? Frodo and Sam have accepted the challenge of taking this burden to Mount Doom, and yet it is also semeingly fated that they should have to do this. I like to think of them as akin to Aragorn, who also is fated to take on a burden, and who like the Hobbits accepts his burden come what may. In fact, are many of the characters we meet in LotR truly free? Many of them seem to be fated to take their part in particular circumstances. Their freedom comes in with how they deal with the situations they are thrust into. Going back again to what I said about the destruction of evil, it cannot be defeated if it is just left alone, nor can any of the characters we meet play their parts if they refuse to take part in the first place.

I think that this is part of the nature of 'stories'. What would be the point of reading about an Eowyn who made the choice of stopping home in Edoras? Or a Sam who did not snoop at open windows?

Originally Posted by Kuruharan

Also notice the, well, almost providential manner in which this whole business falls out. Frodo and Sam were trapped between two large parties of orcs in unfamiliar territory with little potential for cover. They had One Ring to split between them. Chances are, had Frodo escaped Shelob unscathed, one or the other of them would have been spotted (whichever didn’t have the Ring obviously) and the Quest would have been in deep doo-doo. Instead, Frodo is poisoned and taken prisoner and Sam escapes through use of the Ring. However, Frodo is taken in the direction he was intending to go, into Mordor. Through the loot the orcs find on his body, the garrison of Cirith Ungol is destroyed, which would have been a terribly difficult obstacle for Frodo and Sam to get past had things gone otherwise.

As Kuruharan says, what happens to Frodo is ultimately a great stroke of luck. It couldn't really be otherwise or the story would turn out differently. I think where I've got to in all that I've said here is that yes, the characters are subject to fate, and yes, they must also willingly choose to follow that fate rather than stay at home with their feet up, but at the root of everything, they are indeed pawns, but they are Tolkien's pawns. I shan't say any more because that's a big hole I've climbed into.

[littlemanpoet]

Originally Posted by Lalwendë

I think where I've got to in all that I've said here is that yes, the characters are subject to fate, and yes, they must also willingly choose to follow that fate rather than stay at home with their feet up, but at the root of everything, they are indeed pawns, but they are Tolkien's pawns. I shan't say any more because that's a big hole I've climbed into.

Indeed.

Your post was cause for me to change my sig.

Sorry if I'm repeating what others have said, since Lal's is the last post I've read so far, but there is one way that Evil can win over Good, and that is for Good to succumb to such vices as cowardice, pride, vanity, chosen ignorance; in a phrase, to refuse to do what it should when called upon. Authorial sovereignty? Into the big hole we go....

Originally Posted by Bêthberry

...perhaps I have lobbed a few explosives...

ha ha! "lobbed"? Surely that was on purpose?

The sexual undertones of Shelob's defeat at Sam's hands was not lost on me this time around. I found it interesting that our little hero has not lost his "sting". But where is Gollum? Hiding? Fallen? Why is he not anywhere to be found at this point, considering that he shows up again later?

[davem]

Well, yeah, but as Freud is supposed to have said, 'Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.'...

One could see phallic symbolism in Sam using a sword to pierce Shelob, but in that world what other kind of weapon would he use? A spear, an arrow? In other words, there are very few ways that Sam could have seen off Shelob that couldn't be interpreted 'sexually'. I suppose he could have tried setting her on fire...

Shelob is a force of evil & as Rosebury has pointed out it is necessary that evil be shown to carry the seeds of its own destruction - it is not an equal & opposite force to good, but rather a perversion of it without the power to sustain itself.

Perhaps Freud has gotten us all seeing things which aren't always there.

Or to put it another way, sometimes stabbing a giant spider is just stabbing a giant spider...

[Kuruharan]

I suppose he could have tried setting her on fire...

That would have been just fanning the flames of luuuve!!

Perhaps Freud has gotten us all seeing things which aren't always there.

Nice to see somebody besides me say this.

[Bêthberry]

You know, I specifically did not refer to Freud in my post because 1) I don't place much value in his kind of psychoanalytic psychology and 2) I don't think he has the final word on archetypes and 3)my argument was based on other criteria.

So, as a matter of fact, davem and Kuruharan, whether you are dismissive of the suggestion simply because you seem to dislike Freudian interpretations is irrelevant because it does not address the nature of my argument. I agree with you that many forms of supposedly Freudian symbolism is flimsy, particularly that which jumps on a supposed applicability without considering the context.

Meaning accrues not from dictionary definitions but from the basic way we make sense of language--from decoding the likeliest of possible meanings, for example: we make inference from the co-text, from how the words around a word suit and fit. Words of a feather fly together, you might say. Consider this sentence:

Father fell out of a tree and broke a limb.

'tree' and 'limb' belong to the 'tree' designation. 'fell', 'broke' and 'limb' belong to the 'bone injury' designation. Which designation does 'limb' belong to? It is ambiguous. This multiple desingation, the resonance and ambiguity, is what makes literary language in particular so rich with reflected meaning. (Comedy routines are of course notorious for exploiting this kind of ambiguity.) This power of designation or relationship is build on probablity, of course, but its power is determined by its uniqueness. Clichés have an inevitable collocation: bite the dust, fall in love, etc. But where collocations are not expected or habitual--well, there lies the kind of improbability upon whick literary meaning is built.

This collocation begins with the line about Sam defending Frodo as his "fallen mate", and continues through 'horn', 'the arches of her legs', the 'splaying legs'. Consider other meanings of 'impudent'--not just boldness, but also 'lack of modesty, shamelessness.' It would be possible to write this passage with other words which don't tend towards this reflected meaning.

But lexis is not the only argument. Shelob shares many physical charactertistics with the demon Lilith: stench, appetite, lust and lack of chastity in its wider and older form, number of offspring, cruelty. Lilith was said to murder infants and Jewish folklore included a number of amulets and sayings said to protect infant males from her in the days before the ritual of circumcision. What is the passive Frodo here but an infant swaddled in her web? (This, I admit, might be stretching things a bit.)

Why would both Tolkien and Lewis choose to depict a primeval force of evil as female? (Fifty-fifty, I guess, eh?) What might their similar ideas have been touching upon or drawn from?

Perhaps ideology might also play a part in interpretation here. Some might not be familiar with or might not accept the existence of a primitive form of evil in female form in the Christian tradition, a form which was overcome by patriarchial monotheism. When Mary is enthroned on a pedestal of virtue and honour, she overcomes earlier denigrating portrayals of the female aspect. It is almost a manichean kind of split. It makes perfect sense to me to have a repulsive female evil thwarted by the power of Galadriel--mythologic sense. How many mythologies contain stories of how female deities lost power and influence to male deities? Why wouldn't that aspect of mythologies be reflected in Tolkien's subcreation? If Goldberry can be related to celtic water spirits (as davem has pointed out), why is this reworking of old legend not possible?

And none of this in any way negates the concept that evil contains the seeds of its own downfall (no pun intended), a point which I have argued elsewhere here on the Downs some time ago.

So, you see, it is not a smoking cigar, but many pieces to a puzzle.

[Bêthberry]

Originally Posted by littlemanpoet

ha ha! "lobbed"? Surely that was on purpose?

The sexual undertones of Shelob's defeat at Sam's hands was not lost on me this time around. I found it interesting that our little hero has not lost his "sting". But where is Gollum? Hiding? Fallen? Why is he not anywhere to be found at this point, considering that he shows up again later?

Of course it was, lmp

Originally Posted by Fordim Hedgethistle

Hey -- you want Freud? What about the act of thrusting a finger into a Ring? Or how about a race of people who live in womb-like holes in the ground?

"Absent" indeed! Lurking, m'dearies, lurking.

My amenable fellow, I must thank you for providing such examples as make a veritable operational definition of exactly what my examples are not. You do my work for me.

Originally Posted by Kuruharan

Yeah, but how else would one describe a spider? I mean, legs are their most prominent feature (the awful, wretched things).

Well, Kuru, either the words are a meaningful facet of his writing/art or they are forced upon him, with no credit to him.

Originally Posted by davem

Even if Tolkien had the story of Lilith in the back of his mind we mustn't, or we'll be dragged out of Middle-earth into the realm of comparative mythology or worse

So readers dare not go where only authors care to tread? Well, well. What are readers to do who see imagery and symbolism of the Virgin Mary in Galadriel, which was 'put there' "consciously so in the revision" by Tolkien's own statement? Are they to discount it as irrelevant intrusion of primary world? Why one and not the other? (oh dear, have reached my smilie limit.)

[davem]

Originally Posted by Bb

So readers dare not go where only authors care to tread? Well, well. What are readers to do who see imagery and symbolism of the Virgin Mary in Galadriel, which was 'put there' "consciously so in the revision" by Tolkien's own statement? Are they to discount it as irrelevant intrusion of primary world? Why one and not the other? (oh dear, have reached my smilie limit.)

I think while we are reading the story we should try & leave behind primary world ideas & symbols - otherwise we risk having the spell broken. While reading the story Shelob should only be 'an evil thing in spider form' & Sam's method of dispatching her bring to mind things like the Turin/Glaurung & Earendel/Ungoliant battles.

Once we step outside the secondary world we can analyse it all as much as we want - though in that case we are doing what Tolkien condemned - breaking a thing to find out what it is made of, dismantling the tower to find out wherre the stones originally came from.

This is the real 'Freudian' approach which we're all (myself as much as, or even more than, others, I sometimes feel) in danger of falling into. The Freudian approach is essentially backward looking, asking 'what caused this, what is this made of?' The alternative, which I suppose we can call the 'Jungian' approach, is to ask 'What is this for? 'Where is this going?' rather than 'Where did this come from?'

As for the Galadriel/Mary connection, it is in there - quite blatantly some would say in the later writings - but its not there so strongly that it can't be ignored by those who want to, & its not necessary to know anything about the Virgin Mary
in order to understand the character & role of Galadriel. We may learn a lot about Tolkien by bringing Mary into our reading, but we won't learn much about Middle earth. We won't actually learn that much about Galadriel, either.

Letter 144:

Myth & fairy story must, as all art, reflect & contain in solution elements of moral & religious truth (or error), but not explicit, not in the known form of the primary 'real' world.

Having said all that, its difficult to seperate the creator from his creation, & Lilith may have been in the back (or even the front) of his mind when he was writing this passage - we'll probably never know.

[Bêthberry]

Originally Posted by davem

I think while we are reading the story we should try & leave behind primary world ideas & symbols - otherwise we risk having the spell broken. While reading the story Shelob should only be 'an evil thing in spider form' & Sam's method of dispatching her bring to mind things like the Turin/Glaurung & Earendel/Ungoliant battles.

Once we step outside the secondary world we can analyse it all as much as we want - though in that case we are doing what Tolkien condemned - breaking a thing to find out what it is made of, dismantling the tower to find out wherre the stones originally came from.

This is the real 'Freudian' approach which we're all (myself as much as, or even more than, others, I sometimes feel) in danger of falling into. The Freudian approach is essentially backward looking, asking 'what caused this, what is this made of?' The alternative, which I suppose we can call the 'Jungian' approach, is to ask 'What is this for? 'Where is this going?' rather than 'Where did this come from?'
. . .

Having said all that, its difficult to seperate the creator from his creation, & Lilith may have been in the back (or even the front) of his mind when he was writing this passage - we'll probably never know.

I am writing this in haste, but I do want to get something posted in reply as soon as possible.

First of all, what is this 'breaking the spell' and who says Shelob should only be a 'an evil thing in spider form'? And who says this approach is merely an archeology to determine original intent?

It seems to me impossible to dictate a right way and a wrong way of reading, first of all. Yes, some books do have ways to be read which are more rewarding than others, and some readings do become dead ends, but all in all reading is a creative process as well as writing, and why dictate that some things must be held off? Why must the right reading be a naive or virginal always 'first' reading that denies any other reading experience?

Possibly I put this entire discussion at odds with my joking reference to Fordim and his anti-Freudian take. (Hmm. Fordim, Freudim. ) And I subsequently framed my points poorly by suggesting Tolkien's own knowledge of mythology. However, I did say initially that I don't know if Tolkien was familiar with the Lilith legends. And knowing me, you all ought to know by now that I don't think it necessarily important whether we can objectively ascertain that he did or not.

What matters to me is the possibilities for plenitude which the text holds out. I cannot separate Tolkien's wonderful depiction of Shelob from my knowlege of other reading: too many points are similar for there not to be some fruitful going forth here. I have already hinted at where my reading goes. The text, for me, enacts a story as old as the earliest narratives. That story bears upon the roles of characters here, especially Galadriel, Eowyn, Arwen, but not them alone. I leave it now for others to read my text with plenitude.

[Formendacil]

Originally Posted by Kuruharan

But since Good does not self-destruct, doesn't that make it more powerful?

However, good is, by its very nature, forgiving and more naturally accepting of face value than evil. It might be more endurable, in the long run, but because of this inherent tendency to forgive rather than destroy, to accept rather than question, it is doomed to eternal conflict with evil.

And, to quote Gorbag in this chapter:

But they can make mistakes, even the Top Ones can.

A caution for both good and evil leaders.

[Kuruharan]

Good also has fewer tools at its disposal since deception and trickery are out of its arsenal. However, this may be only a short term disadvantage.

[davem]

Regarding the self-defeating tendency of evil (in Middle earth at least), this from Brian Rosebury's book - Tolkien: A Cultural Phenomenon :

..The defeat of the forces of evil should ideally appear, not as a lucky accident, or as a punishment inflicted from outside by a superior power (which deprives the actual process of defeat of any moral significance), but as the practical consequence of wickedness itself: Evil must appear as intrinsically self defeating in the long run. Sauron & his servants, despite their steadily growing superiority in crude strength & terror, are hindered by weaknesses which are themselves vices: their lack of imagination, the irrational cruelty which denies them the option of voluntary assistance (the victim must be made to act against his own will), & the selfishness which disables their alliances.

[Bêthberry]

Let me begin by thanking Estelyn for taking the time to start this thread even in the midst of her computer woes! Well might you have said, "Well, I'm back" because you are as faithful as Sam, Ghosted Princess!

I have a few points to offer which differ slightly from the topic developed here. I hope I have let that topic develop before I throw some other irons in the fire. With Fordim being absent so much from the forum, I think I am safe to offer these ideas without having Freud thrown back at me!

The first point I noticed is how this chapter parallels the chapter which began The Two Towers, "The Departure of Boromir." In that early chapter it is Merry and Pippin who are dragged away by orcs; here it is Frodo himself. But what I find particularly interesting is how Aragorn's quandry is echoed by Sam's, not only in word but in rhetoric as well, for both heroes work through their decision by a kind of internal dialogue.

This is a bitter end. Now the Company is all in ruin. It is I that have failed. Vain was Gandalf's trust in me. What shall I do now? Boromir has laid it on me to go to Minas Tirith, and my heart desires it; but where are the Ring and the Bearer? How shall I find them and save the Quest from disaster?
. . .
He knelt for a while, bend with weeping, still clasping Boromir's hand. . . .

"Let me think!" said Aragorn [to Gimli and Legolas now.] "And now may I make a right choice, and change the evil fate of this unhappy day!" He stood silent for a moment. 'I will follow the Orcs,' he said at last. "I would have guided Frodo to Mordor and gone with him to the end' but if I seek him now in the wilderness, I must abandon the captives to torment and death. My heart speaks clearly at last: the fate of the Bearer is in my hands no longer. The Company has played its part. "

The cairn that they could not build for Boromir is reduced to two stones for Frodo, at his head and feet. When Sam recovers from his decent into the blackness of despair and loss, he begins his self-questioning, which is more extensive than that of Aragorn, but similar.

'What shall I do? What shall I do?' he said. 'Did I come all this way with him for nothing?' And then he remembered his own voice speaking words that at the time he did not understand himself, at the beginning of the journey: I have something to do before the end. I must see it through, sir, if you understand.'

'But what can I do? Not leave Mr. Frodo dead, unburied on the top of the mountains, and go home? Or go on? Go on?' he repeated, and for a moment doubt and fear shook him. 'Go on? Is that what I've got to do? And leave him?'. . . .

'What? Me alone, go to the Crack of Doom and all?' He quailed still, but the resolve grew. 'What? Me take the Ring from him? The Council gave it to him.'

But the answer came at once: 'And the Council gave him companion, so that the errand should not fail. And you are the last of the Company. The errand must not fail.'

"I wish I wasn't the last,' he groaned. 'I wish old Gandalf was here, or somebody. Why am I left all alone to make up my mind? I'm sure to go wrong. And it's not for me to go taking theRing, putting myself forward.'

'But you haven't put yourself forward; you've been put forward. And as for not being the right and proper person, why, Mr. Frodo wasn't, as you might say, nor Mr. Bilbo. They did't choose themselves."

And so Sam takes the Ring upon himself in order to fulfil the Quest. Of course, the chapter is not over, but the structural parallels between the future king's choice and the humble hobbit hero's are interesting, for they underscore, I think, one of the themes of LotR, that even the most humble may serve, and that all heroes have moments of deep distress where they must search for the right answer. And by the chapter's--and book's--conclusion, we know that Sam's choice was the right choice for he has saved the Ring from the clutches of the enemy, even at the terrible loss of his friend.

Or at least, we hope it is the right decision. No Hollywood cliff hanger in the old serials was more poignant than this break before the next chapter.

I am called away. My other observations must await a later post.

[Kuruharan]

Yet another cliff hanger?